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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257662">All the Little Pieces That Make You Whole</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamboyantProblematic/pseuds/FlamboyantProblematic'>FlamboyantProblematic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Disco Elysium (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Depression, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:33:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamboyantProblematic/pseuds/FlamboyantProblematic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>CW; Depression, mention of suicidal tendencies. </p><p>A short story about losing yourself to the monster known as depression. It eats away at you and leaves you a husk of someone you once knew. Do you even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore?</p><p>It never leaves. You simply cope. But how long can you keep up this facade?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Glen/Titus Hardie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All the Little Pieces That Make You Whole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm sorry for the heavy angst. I promise I'm writing something more light hearted for Valentine's day.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Titus?"</p><p>The familiar voice sounds so distant, it echoes all around you. You're not sure where it's coming from but you follow it through the snow nonetheless.</p><p>Your boots making a crunching noise as you try to navigate through the sea of white that surrounds you. Martinaise stretches over the horizon endlessly. Not a soul is around. </p><p>The world shakes and you're almost thrown off balance, and yet, no one comes out to investigate.</p><p>You realize then that you're probably asleep. How else would you be hearing voices as the world quakes around you?</p><p>"Titus?" The voice is that of your partner trying to wake you up, of course. Now all you have to do is open your eyes and wake up. Easy. </p><p>Any minute now. </p><p>You'll open your eyes. </p><p>Aaaaany minute. </p><p>"Titus..." The sound comes again. You're too tired to wake up. It must be the middle of the night. Another shake. The world around you begins to fade and you begin to fall into the abyss. </p><p> You can now open your eyes. </p><p>Your lids are heavy and the world is dark around you. Ugh... Your partner better have a damn good reason for waking you up. You pull yourself up and open the lamp on your nightstand, the light from it burns your eyes. You're about to chew the head off the blonde sitting next to you but close your mouth when you look at him. His hand comes up to your face and he rests it there, his thumb brushing against the stubble. </p><p>You recognize that look immediately.</p><p>It's one of those nights... </p><p>You don't say anything as both his hands explore your face as if trying to memorize every line that defines you. His fingertips are rough but they feel like silk against your own tough skin. </p><p>A smile spreads across your face and it seems to bring him a lot of pain, his expression contorts. There's so much pain in the wrinkles on his forehead and the bags under his eyes. </p><p>You hold one of his hands in yours and squeeze lightly. He looks like he's about to breakdown and sob but he's doing his best to keep himself together. </p><p>"Is this real?" </p><p>You chuckle. "You mean wakin' me up in the middle of the night to touch my face? Of course, dumbass." That's not the case and you know it isn't. This isn't the first time this has happened.</p><p>His tired blue eyes widen slightly, as though he's surprised at your answer, and then the pain comes back and it consumes him almost instantly. </p><p>"How do I know this ain't just another dream?" </p><p>His gaze becomes distant. He's looking at you but he doesn't see you. His mind is flooding, he's drowning, and there's little you can do to help him swim. </p><p>"It ain't a dream, Glen." </p><p>That doesn't put him at ease. His eyes stare through you. He's slipping. You want to help him find his way to the surface so you lean forward and press your lips to his, he hesitates but eventually his arms move to your back, claw like nails dig into your skin as the blonde man desperately tries to piece together reality. The kiss is slow, you could almost taste his tears on his lips. </p><p>You can't begin to imagine what it's like in Glen's head when he becomes like this. Throughout your entire life, you've watched him have mental breakdown after mental breakdown. His mind is so far gone and it pains you. It pains you because you don't know how to help him. But you know for a fact that underneath all the insanity is a man you grew up with, someone you've loved for as long as you can remember. </p><p>Was he born this way? </p><p>When did you start losing him to this--- this--- Thing. You don't know how to describe it. But it's a great darkness and it has possessed him like a drug does to an addict. </p><p>Your lips part and you can see the tears in his ocean eyes, he's too much of a man to cry, even now. </p><p>"I kissed you so many times in my dreams. It felt so real. But I woke and..." And he was alone, alone in his bed, alone in the cold eternal winter. He won't be able to go on if one day he woke up and realized you were never there. </p><p>He's been in love with you for as long as he could remember. You always knew. You were dumb kids, you've kissed many times before as a joke. You've kissed when you were drunk. Stupid shit that may have meant nothing to you but it meant everything to him. </p><p>Where went that loud and energetic child you once knew? </p><p>This pain has been eating away at him and depriving him of sleep. Fear gripped him by the neck and choked the life out of him, and this is all they've left behind. </p><p>And yet... You still love him. All that remains of him. You'll love him until there's nothing left to love. </p><p>Now you're the one holding his face. Your expression becomes far too serious. "Look at me, Glenny. I'm right here, alright? This ain't a dream." </p><p>He's trying, you can see that he is but his eyes just keep looking through you. </p><p>"I'm so tired." Physically, mentally, emotionally. Existence hurts. It's a chore, not a privilege to him. He just wants an end to this. Happiness seems like a fairy tale, he can't recall what it feels like to be happy, genuinely happy, not the fake happy he pretends to be in front of everyone.</p><p>You offer him a gentle smile. "I know," you shift, moving back until your back pressed against the headboard of the bed, "come 'ere." You guide him and let him rest his head on your lap. He looks up at you with his hazy eyes as you thread your fingers through his golden hair... It has lost its shine, no longer being like the sun that your eyes are unfamiliar with. He's a withering flower, and you can only witness as every petal falls. One day, there will be nothing left. </p><p>Your chest tightens, you watch him slowly fall asleep as your tears choke you. You have to be strong, for him. He needs you to be so he could keep holding on to that little bit of hope that perhaps one day he will find his way out of this bottomless hole. </p><p>"I don't think I can live if I woke up and---"</p><p>"Shut up." </p><p>You don't want to be reminded of those painful nights, knowing that if death came then he would see it as mercy. He's far too young to be feeling like this. You're far too young to be this tired. </p><p>"I'll kick you off the bed in the mornin' and we'll wake up and go to work, just like always." </p><p>You just have to survive the night. It's when his demons are at their strongest. </p><p>"You'll be fine, Glenny. We'll be fine." </p><p>You think he nods but you're not sure.</p><p>Your parents never prepared you for this. Nothing has prepared you for this. As men, you were taught to keep your feelings hidden. There were just a few things that you knew; sports, sex, partying, and liquor. But what do you do when your feelings become too much that you can't keep yourself from regurgitating them. You were never told what depression was and how to deal with it. You were just expected to man up and fight through it.</p><p>But you can't beat depression up and make it go away.</p><p>Your bodies have failed you. </p><p>"I love you, you know that, right?"</p><p>He looks surprised to hear those words. He always is. No matter how many times you've told him this, his eyes still widen upon hearing them. To him, you're a god. Why would someone like you ever love a broken mess like him? It has fed his illusions that this was all nothing but a dream, and eventually he'll wake up and crave your love as he's done all his life. </p><p>It's difficult for him to say those words back but he doesn't need to. You don't need to hear them. You know he feels the same way, so you keep playing with his hair and hoping that he'll finally be tired enough to sleep. </p><p>You lean down and press your lips to his forehead where his demons lie. He closes his eyes and sighs, perhaps out of relief, perhaps out of fatigue. Regardless, he doesn't open his eyes again, and soon enough, sleep overcomes him. </p><p>You allow yourself, then, to shed a single tear, and as quickly as it formed, it was gone. You rub your eyes and collect yourself. You've made it through another storm but it won't be the last.</p><p>As you look at the man in your lap, you map out all his features, including the dozens of scars that dot his body, some self-inflicted from nights where the pain became too much to bear and the thought of putting an end to it all was appealing, but most of them come from being a citizen of this city. </p><p>There are a few, however, that make you shudder. They're old and left behind by a monster that is no longer here, but he haunts Glen and you know it. Their impact is eternal. Perhaps the first scar is where you started losing him, where he was no longer the mischievous little kid that you once knew. The first piece of him that has broken off. </p><p>Now he's a pool of broken pieces that you can't put together again. It'll never be the same. But despite that, you love every single piece. You can only hope that's enough to get him through another day.</p>
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